Knight of the Sliver Hand
by Chairman JHow
Summary: This is the story of Danarlon, a Paladin and close friend of Arthas. terrible summary but the stories better. Please review :


**Disclaimer: This is my first story and i would greatly appreciate any reviews on it. Future installments coming soon. :)**

**I don't own wow.**

**The main characters are my own.**

The sound of the crowd was deafening. All of Lordaeron must have shown up at the castle to watch the initiation of prince Arthas into the Order of the Knights of the Silver Hand. From all the surrounding villages as well it would seem, judging from the smell that assaulted the noses of the nobles gathered in the courtyard. _Half__o__' __them__look__ready__to__call__the__guards__on__ '__em._Anviar thought to himself as he watched one noble breathing heavily while still trying to hold his breath. _Pathetic__buggers,__the__whole__lot__o__' __them.__Not__a__one__would__survive__outside__these__walls._Speaking of which, Anviar glanced around the courtyard, checking to see that the guards were at their posts and that the citizens stayed behind the flimsy barricade.

The courtyard was large enough to fit the people in it as well, but the Order always had enemies and assassination was always a concern when all the members assembled in one place so public. Ringing the courtyard were statues of all of Lordaerons previous Kings and celebrated champions, all formed in a way to show a prowess and courageous visage. Each one looked to outdo the other in some way or form, but all could be recognized on site. Each was placed in a smoothed arch along the wall, to shelter them from the rain. Atop the wall, guards were seen walking along the parapets, though a few had stopped to watch the proceedings or glance down at the crowd nervously. At each corner of the wall stood a watch tower an additional twenty feet higher than the already massive thirty foot walls between them. Such defenses are necessary for the castle given its long and bloody history, and doubly since the escape of the Orcs from their internment camps. Word was spreading that they were colonizing for an attack on Lordaeron so the defenses needed to be manned every day just in case.

And what better day to attack than on one of the most celebrated days Lordaeron has and will see forever more?

Sighing, Anviar turned his attention to his young charge, and was glad to see that Danarlon was paying full attention to the proceeding.

Having grown up with Arthas, Annviar knew Danarlon was a bit jealous that he had not been chosen to take up the sacred arms of the Order alongside his friend. Disappointed as he was, Anviar assured him that with a bit more time and patience he too would be fighting the scourge alongside his brother in arms and Prince. Anviars' only concern was Danarlons rash and often dangerous tactics, which oft as not, ended up hurting him or those around him. Anviar was not going to allow that sort of behavior into the Order, and Dandarlon knew that, but try as he might he could not suppress that instinct to attack with fury and not worry of those around him. Such a trait, while useful, needed to be controlled. He was still upset with the council about letting a boy into the order without all the elders say so. Tirion was in agreement with him on this matter, but when Arch-Bishop Foal said it was time, that ended the debate. Whatever misgiving Annviar had, it would just have to wait till after the ceremony.

But such worries were for another time, as Uther Lightbringer, grandmaster of the Order, was finished with the anointing rituals and was about to present the Prince with his holy weapon, Lights Vengeance, as the final rite of initiation. "Do you, Arthas Menethil, vow to up hold the lights commands, defend the weak, and destroy any and all signs of the scourge, until your final breath?" boomed Uther.

"I so swear!"

"Then rise, Arthas Menethil, Knight of the Silver Hand, heir to the Kingdom of Lordaeron, and DO YOUR DUTY AS PRINCE AND PALADIN!"

Anviar was certain he would go deaf from the thunderous applause from the gathered crowd, but he dare not move least his brothers see him flinch, and he would never live that down. Tirion was the worst for that, a friend till the end but a constant do-good-er and blinded by his honor, Tirion would no doubt try to lecture him on the behaviour and restraint they had to show in front of the people. _We __must __seem __as __rock __to __the __people, __for __we __are __the __foundation __with __which __the __church __must __build __its __hope. __Should __we __fail __in __this __than __the __world __will __collapse __in to __anarchy._ Tirions' words rang in his head, just barely loud enough to overcome the sound of the still cheering crowd.

Once the noise died down, Arthas stood facing the crowd and shouted to the people, "_HEAR __ME, __SPIRITS __OF __MY __FORE-FATHERS, __AND __HEED __THESE __WORDS! __I ,__ARTHAS __MENETHIL, __FIRST __OF __HIS __NAME __AND __CROWN __PRINCE __OF __THE __KINGDOM __OF __LORDAERON, __SO __SWEAR __TO __DO __ANYTHING, __PAY __ANY __PRICE, __TO __PROTECT __MY __PEOPLE!__"_

While this got great cheers from the gathered crowd, smiles and applause from the nobles, and looks of pride from Uther and king Terenas, Annviar couldn't help but wonder at the implications behind that.

_Careful __lad, __those __words __might __someday __come __back __t__' __haunt __ya._


End file.
